


History Repeats Itself

by JayceCarter



Series: Kinktober 2017 [21]
Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Kinktober 2017, Prostitution, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: Kellogg finds a girl at the Third Rail to hire for the night, but he's surprised to find just how much he likes her. Nova can't believe how much this mercenary reminds her of someone from her past, and gives into the familiarity of it.Two jaded people find comfort in a world that has been kind to neither.





	History Repeats Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 19: Prostitution 
> 
> So, yeah, less kink, more um. . . angsty feely smut? Something?
> 
> I have no idea, but I enjoyed writing it.

 

Kellogg drank back the rest of the whiskey in a single gulp, ready to leave the noise and stink of the Third Rail. The place lacked a lot in terms of atmosphere, but at least he didn’t have to worry about any law there.

 

Sure, there was Hancock, but long as you didn’t go murdering people in his streets, the mayor didn’t much care about anything but chems and women.

 

Kellogg didn’t give a fuck about either of those things. Both did the same damned thing: killed ya, women a little faster than chems, but the same fucking difference.

 

Still, who knew how long it would be until he had any company again. He tired of the voices of synths, their programmed bullshit politeness. What use were they other than fodder when the fighting got tough? So he soaked up that noise, and that smell, and the energy of the room, a living breathing thing he wasn’t a part of.

 

Didn’t matter.

 

He pushed his glass across the bar toward Charlie along with enough caps to cover his tab. His liver could have handled far more, but he didn’t care to be drunk in Goodneighbor. Wasn’t sort of place to let down your guard.

 

Kellogg pushed to his feet, rolling his shoulders to lessen the ache. Age didn’t hit him the way it would have for most people, but all these damned parts managed to still hurt, like the bone around the cybernetics were turning to dust.

 

“I said no,” came the even voice of a woman.

 

Kellogg turned, the woman behind him, arms over her chest, staring smoothly at a man who didn’t look happy.

 

“I got caps. Caps you’re gonna take and spread your legs for me.”

 

“Not a chance.” She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down despite the man having a few inches and a lot of pounds on her. “I saw exactly how handsy you got with Kathryn the last time. You left a lot of bruises on her. None of the girls here are interested in selling anything to you, so you might as well head out.”

 

He took a step toward the woman, crowding over her. “I ain’t going nowhere. You got a product, and I’m a customer. Come on, whore, service me.”

 

Kellogg reached out to snatch the asshole backward by his collar, but the woman was faster. She lifted her knee into the man’s nuts, something that had every man in the bar cringing and shielding his own goods.

 

The man leaned forward, face red. “You fucking-“

 

“-heard it all before. Ham is coming down those stairs, and if you think the bruises you left on Kathryn were something, wait till you see what he does to you. I’d suggest you drag yourself out of here and retrieve your balls from your throat at some point in the future.”

 

The man stumbled off, hands grasping his balls like the meaning of life were there, but hell, maybe it was, especially after someone had played some rough S&M shit with them.

 

Kellogg was left staring at the woman, mouth hanging open, cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips.

 

She was thirty-five, maybe, but the sort of thirty-five that said they hadn’t been the best years. It wasn’t written in winkles in her skin, but in the distrust in her eyes, in the set of her spine.

 

“Thanks for helping.”

 

“I didn’t,” he responded, finally snapping his mouth shut.

 

“No, but you were going to. Not many white knights in the Third Rail.”

 

He laughed, leaning his hip against the bar as he stared at her. “Well, turned out you didn’t need it anyway. You turn down customers a lot?”

 

She shrugged, beer bottle swinging between her fingers. “When I want to, sure. I spent a lot of years in the service of someone else, so I’m pickier with who I say yes to, now.”

 

“Didn’t know there were many picky whores.”

 

“Probably about as many as discerning killers-for-hire.”

 

That got a laugh from him. “What’s your name?”

 

“Nova.”

 

He stuck his hand out. “Kellogg.”

 

She shook his hand, hand firm, warm, and very smooth. He remembered hearing how the good whores, the high price ones, would take care of their hands. He understood it. He had to keep his hands in good shape for shooting. Fuck up your fingers and your aim turned to shit.

 

She wasn’t shooting anything, but he suspected her nightly take would go up if she wasn’t chafing clients.

 

“So, ask me.”

 

He cocked up an eyebrow. “Ask you what?”

 

“Ask me what I cost. I haven’t made it this long without being able to tell if a man is interested. What’s wrong, not used to paying for it?”

 

His fingers tapped at the bartop. “No, can’t say I’m used to that.”

 

“Well, trust me, I’m worth it, honey. Two hundred caps will give you all night and a place to sleep at the Rexford.”

 

He returned her smile. “Sure, _honey,_ two hundred sounds good.”

 

She slid her arm through the crook of his elbow. “Come on then. Let me show you what those caps’ll buy you.”

 

#

 

Nova undid the buttons of her jacket and slid it off. She placed it on the hook near the door.

 

She paid Clair for two rooms. The one she worked in and the one she slept in. She didn’t care for bringing clients to her personal space, to her own bedroom. That was private. That was her space, and she didn't care for people to intrude. 

 

Still, she’d brought Kellogg there. Why?

 

Well, the reason was pretty damned obvious, wasn’t it? He reminded her of someone she refused to think about.

 

So, instead of the plush room full of red and velvet, where she turned tricks, she was in her room. Comfortable, quiet, simple.

 

If Kellogg cared about the room, he didn’t show it. He removed his own jacket and tossed it onto the dresser top. It clattered against the wood, the heavy armor a reminder that he wasn’t just anyone. He counted the caps out onto the small table, and the rest of the pouch said she’d under charged him.

 

But hell, she knew that. Truth was, she’d wanted him. Might have even taken him for free, but that was too personal. No, even if was one cap, she needed to be paid.

 

Once the caps were settled, Nova slid her fingers into the waistband of his pants, just behind the buckle of his belt.

 

“How does this go?”

 

She tilted her head, unable to help the amusement at the question. “However you want it to; they’re your caps. We can go hard and fast, fucking until you can’t stand anymore. We can take our time and do the whole girlfriend thing, where I tell you how damned much I love you and how special you are. You can top me, or I can top you.” She moved to her toes, lips sliding over his earlobe. “Tell me what you want, honey.”

 

He twisted her until her ass hit the table.

 

She sat on it and spread her legs around his hips, an automatic reaction. Still, her thighs tightened around his waist, keeping him from getting too close.

 

Keep ‘em guessing, keep ‘em wanting. That was the game to play.

 

“I want to fuck you. That’s all I know.”

 

“Well, lucky for you, two hundred caps gets you all of that you can manage until morning.”

 

He leaned in and took her mouth in a kiss that was more finesse than she’d expected from a man like this. He set a hand on the table behind her as he laid her backward. They knocked the bag of caps to the floor, his fingers sliding beneath the cloth of her shirt.

 

Most men tore her clothing, or never bothered to remove anything not covering a hole. She’d gotten good at sewing, since Moriarty had insisted she look presentable. Now, it mattered less, but she’d kept the skills.

 

Kellogg did none of that. His fingers walked up her skin, thumb brushing over the ridges and valleys of her ribs, over the skin of her stomach. She wasn’t the same girl she’d been at twenty when she’d started to work for Moriarty, wasn’t the same fresh-faced thing she was, even at twenty-eight when he'd died. The years had passed and she’d lost some of the muscle, the firm snap of her skin, but she rarely heard complaints.

 

Girls like her didn’t make money because they were pretty; they made money because they were good.

 

And she was damned good.

 

She unhooked the buttons of his shirt, revealing all the old scars, the crisscrossing of jagged white lines she knew she’d fine.

 

Men like Kellogg had scars, and fuck her, because she liked that. Always had.  No time to indulge, though. Instead, her hands went to work.

 

She searched for each reaction, each intake of breath, each stifled moan he didn’t want her to hear. His nipples, the skin at his hip bones, his pulse. She varied pressure, added nails and teeth, until she was sure she could play him like a damned damn of Caravan.

 

Her thumbs brushed over his flat nipples again, her leg hooked around his hip. “Kellogg,” she fake-moaned as she leaned up to capture his lips.

 

His hand went to her sternum and shoved her down hard enough to knock her breath from her lungs. “Don’t play games with me, Nova. None of this faking it shit. What do I want? I want you to be real.”

 

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, baby.”

 

He undid the button of her pants, then yanked them down, removing her shoes as he did so. His hands ran over the outsides of her thighs, then over her hips like the curve fascinated him. She twisted, trying to show off the parts he paused on, the parts he seemed to like.

 

Showing off merchandise.

 

Kellogg shook his head before hauling her up, off the table. He put her over his shoulder, which dug into her stomach, but she couldn’t deny the rough treatment excited her.

 

She couldn't indulge in rough sex, mostly because she couldn’t trust her clients. Now, with Ham, with Hancock, she had more protection than before, but it was still too risky.

 

He dropped her onto the bed, rolling her to her back and spreading her knees wide. “Stop arching your back, Nova. You don’t need to pretend, don’t need to sell me on shit.”

 

“For someone who doesn’t know what he wants, you sure have a lot of pointers.”

 

“Told you. I just want you. How about I make you come?”

 

“Sure, honey-“

 

“-stop with the pet names.”

 

She smiled at the chastisement. She used them because then she didn’t have to remember names. Leave it to him to call her on it. “Come on then, I want to feel you-“

 

He shook his head before dragging her underwear off, nails scratching gently over her skin as he did it. “Quiet, Nova. I don’t need to hear lines.” He used the thumbs on each hand to spread her cunt, and a rare heat came up on her cheeks at the close inspection. He leaned in used the flat of his tongue to drag up her clit.

 

She wanted to gasp, to jerk her hips up into the touch, but those weren’t the ‘right’ responses. Instead, she gave her sultriest moan and grabbed the headboard behind her. She rolled her hips, an even twisting that would look damn fine.

 

He nipped at her folds. “Stop with the pin-up girl sounds. And don’t even think about trying to fake it.”

 

She went to argue, but he slide two fingers into her, hard and fast like he knew damned well she could take it.

 

“Fuck,” she gasped, arms shoving at the headboard in surprise.

 

“Better.”

 

He tasted her in long, hard licks, exploring her folds, her clit, tongue even sliding around where his own fingers were inside her. It didn’t take long for the start of an orgasm to simmer inside her.

 

What the hell? When was the last time she’d actually enjoyed this? Not since before, back in the Capital Wasteland. Working was working, and she’d rather give a client a fake scream and shudder than let them see her vulnerable.

 

So she clenched her walls around his fingers and gave that fake scream, the one that had his name on her lips, the one that would let him pat himself on the back and get on with it.

 

Another nip before he pulled back enough to stare up at her. “Faker. You think I haven’t done this enough to tell? You were starting to get there, though. You telling me you don’t want to come?”

 

“I want whatever you want.”

 

“Fuck that.” He stared at her, the light catching the wetness on his lips.

 

She shook her head. “I don’t like to come for clients.”

 

He laughed softly before crawling up her body, his knees resting between her thighs. “You’ll fuck them, but coming is what? Too personal?”

 

“Yeah, it is. I don’t like being at the mercy of people I don’t know or trust.”

 

He undid his pants with one hand, and her hands helped him get them over his hips. “But a cock inside you is no big deal?”

 

“Most of them aren’t.” Nova dropped her gaze to between his legs, eyebrow lifting. “But leave it to you to be outstanding, hmm?”

 

“Flattery won’t get you a thing.” He leaned in and kissed her, softer than before, his cock sliding against her. “You ready for me?”

 

Nova dug her heels into the mattress, lifting her hips toward him, her pelvis pressing against his. “Come on, stop making me wait.”

 

He grinned, then moved forward, pressing into her.

 

And she hadn’t been kidding. He wasn’t a slouch in that department, the stretch causing her to curl her fingers into his side.

 

“Almost there,” he whispered into her ear. “I like the bite of those nails. First real damned thing from you.”

 

Nova gasped as his body pressed against hers, the sting so damned wonderful. He filled her perfectly, just this side of painful. She wrapped her legs up and around his waist, clinging to him.

 

Kellogg didn’t pull out far before grinding into her again, hips rolling.

 

Nova held tight as Kellogg fucked her with hard, deep thrusts. His breath escaped into her ear, heavy and warm. He groaned her name, one hand braced on the bed, the other reaching behind her, grasping her ass to pull her harder against him as he took her.

 

He didn’t try to make her come, didn’t reach for her clit. He chased the soft sounds she made, kept doing what she liked, but didn’t push her further. “You want me to pull out?”

 

She shook her head, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. Whiskey, and leather, and gun powder. Fuck, she’d missed that scent. She lost herself in it, in the nights she’d spent wrapped up with that smell.

 

He groaned, chest rumbling against hers when he came. Another moment and he pulled out, then sat beside her, back against the wall.

 

He reached out for his jacket on the dresser beside the bed, drawing something from his pocket. He set a cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking one drag on it.

 

Nova scooted up so she sat beside him, then stole the cigarette. “Worth the caps?”

 

“I still got the rest of the night.”

 

She laughed, blowing smoke circles. “Yeah, but most clients are only up for one go. They like to pay for the night because they’re hopeful, but hell, most are ready to roll over after one quick ride.”

 

He stole the cigarette back. “We’ll see. Pretty sure I’ll be up for another tumble after a rest. Since we got time, tell me, how’d you end up here? I’ve stopped in at the Third Rail for years, and every other dive bar from California to here, and I’d have remembered you.”

 

“Worked for a long time in Megaton, in a bar there.”

 

“What age?”

 

“Twenty. Ended up in debt to the wrong man and had to pay it off on my back.” The memories of Moriarty, of the dingy salon, of her and Gob trying to cling to some strange sense of family despite the hopelessness.

 

She’d endured five years in that place, but she’d thank him if she could. Moriarty was heartless, and he taught her everything she knew about twisting men.

 

“Hell of a way to earn money.”

 

“Is it any different than killing people for caps? Seems we’re both fucking people over for money, but at least everyone walks away from it when I do.”

 

“Don’t know about that. I’m not walking anywhere just yet. So how does this whole bullshit work? I mean, if we aren’t screwing, what are we supposed to do?”

 

She shrugged. “We could drink some more?”

 

#

 

Kellogg laughed as Nova balanced the beer bottle on her forehead, wavering around, arms out. She wore his shirt, one button done, and her underwear. It meant as she moved, the shirt would open and show her stomach, giving him peeks that he’d started to become interested in again.

 

Damn, had he had this much fun ever? Not since before he’d turned into whatever he was now, not since before his wife had died.

 

The bottle tipped, smacking her in the cheek before tumbling to floor and rolling beneath the bed.

 

“Ow,” she complained, hand covering her face.

 

Kellogg walked over and pulled her hand away, surveying her cheek.

 

“Will I live?”

 

“I think so.” He pressed a kiss to the red mark. “Why are you here?”

 

“You paid me two hundred caps.”

 

He slid the hand behind her neck. “You were going to come with me no matter how much I paid you or didn’t pay you. Why? I can’t imagine a woman who deals with as many men as you do saw something special in and old grizzled merc.”

 

She sighed, face growing tired as the fun from her game slipped away. “You remind me of someone.”

 

“Who?”

 

“An old friend. He was a raider before he tried to settle down, back at my first job in Megaton.”

 

“Friend?”

 

“He hired me often. I spent at least one night a week with him whenever he was in town, sometimes more. He asked me to run away with him, to let him pay off my debt, and I could live with him.”

 

“You loved him?”

 

She shrugged. “Maybe. What do whores know about love? I turned him down, though. Safer that way.”

 

“Don’t run off with clients and don’t let them make you come?”

 

She smirked at him, that crooked smile that said she wasn’t offended by his bluntness. “First two rules in the whore handbook. Right before money up front and make sure they wash, first. Course, I let him make me come. He was an asshole anyway, and it wasn’t like he’d have ever walked away without getting me off.”

 

Kellogg slid his hand over her stomach, up to the one button that held the shirt closed. He flicked the button open, which caused the shirt to open and bare her breasts.

 

Nova glanced down between them. “Well, look who is up for round two.”

 

Kellogg pressed his lips to her throat. “Let me take you apart, Nova. You can pretend I’m him, whatever it takes.”

 

Nova’s tongue traced her lips before she nodded. “Okay.”

 

Kellogg didn’t need a fucking invitation. He reached his hand down, into her underwear. His fingers strummed along her clit.

 

Get her off once and she was likely to relax, to let him have her, and he wanted to see her face as it flushed and she came. No games. No manipulation. Just her.

 

He set one hand on the small of her back, pulling her against him in case her knees gave out.

 

She bucked into his hips, breath ragged. Gone were those perfectly pitched moans, the exaggerated sighs and screamed names. She whined, desperate and startled.

 

He pushed two fingers into her, his thumb hooked up to keep the pressure on her clit. When she came this time, it was real. Her teeth closed down on his chest, a quick inhale that she held as her cunt squeezed down on his fingers in erratic pulses. It wasn’t the single squeeze she’d tried earlier, this was real and she couldn’t help it.

 

Her eyes were shut tight, white teeth buried in his chest, lost in her own body’s release. She whispered another name, so soft he almost missed it.

 

_Jericho_

 

So her raider had a name? He wondered if the man thought about Nova. How could he have let a girl like that get away, even if she did play hard to get.

 

Kellogg was find it hard to imagining leaving her.

 

#

 

Nova drug her fingers over the scars on Kellogg’s chest, both sleepy and sated. They'd laughed and fucked and napped the night away. The sun had already made it half way up the sky, the morning deadline long having passed, and she had no desire to get up.

 

“What happened to Jericho?”

 

She froze at the name, at the ache that always tore at her when he thought about him. “Killed.”

 

“Hard to think the man you mentioned would let himself be killed off. “

 

“He never saw the asshole coming. Vault dweller who decided Jericho didn’t belong in the new world he was creating. Thought he was doing all of us a favor.”

 

Kellogg’s laugh rattled through his chest and into her cheek. “It’s always vault dwellers, isn’t it? They pop out of their little hidey-holes and fuck up our lives, don’t they?”

 

“Seems like it.”

 

His fingers drug through her hair. “You ever thought about getting out of here? Could find a good place, a safe place.”

 

She tilted her head up to look at his eyes, surprised by the honesty there. “History repeating itself, isn’t it?”

 

“No, because no little vault dweller is going to end me. Just, think about it, Nova. You can’t do this forever. Don’t got to answer right now, we can talk about it when I come back to town.”

 

“Oh yeah? And when will you be coming back?”

 

He sat up, letting her slide off him as he did so. “A few weeks, maybe a month. Give me an answer when I come back.” He stood, groaning as he dressed. “Be a nice change to have someone waiting for me.”

 

Nova stood, not bothering to dress, savoring the way his gaze went up and down her body, like he was considering if either of them could manage one more round.

 

And she’d let him, too. Anything for a little more time of pretending.

 

Instead, he pulled her over to him once he’d put on his armor. He kissed her, the sharp points of his armor digging into her, though she didn’t care. She liked his hard edges, even just from his armor. When he broke the kiss, she tilted her head to look up at him. “I’ll give you an answer if you come back.”

 

“Not if, when. You’ll see.” He kissed her head, then moved away.

 

“What is your errand?”

 

He paused at the door, smirk on his lips. “You worried about me?”

 

“Just want to know how long I need to wait before I write you off.”

 

“Won’t need to write me off. You aren’t the sort of woman I’d forget about. But, if it makes you feel better, I’ve just got a quick errand to run, not that far.”

 

Nova went to the door, ducking her head out, ignoring the fact she still had no clothing on. “Where?”

 

He headed down the stairs and called back over his shoulder, “Fort Hagen.”

 


End file.
